The crowd froze, every eye fixed upon me. Their faces, half-hidden behind their monstrous masks, were contorted with fury and fear. It was as if the gods themselves had pronounced judgment, their displeasure manifest in the sudden storm. The air was thick with accusation, the silence more suffocating than any scream.
Amidst the chaos, a man in a particularly terrifying mask lunged forward and seized my arm. I spun to face him, terror clawing at my throat. A scream burst from my lips, but it was not the wordless cry of fear I expected. Instead, I heard myself shout, "CILLLLLLLLLLLLLLIANN!"
The name echoed across the cliff, absurd and inexplicable. HUH? Why? My mind reeled. Why, of all things, WHY'D I SCREAM THAT MOTHER FUCKER'S NAME OF ALL THINGS TO SCREAM?????????? Confusion and panic warred within me, the world spinning out of control as the gods and mortals alike awaited my next move.
The man before me paused, his terrifying mask looming inches from my face. Then, with a swift, almost theatrical flourish, he lifted the mask just enough to reveal a pair of mischievous eyes and a wicked, familiar grin. He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek.
"YUPPP! I'm HEREEEEE!" he declared, his voice ringing out in a childlike sing-song, utterly at odds with the chaos around us. His grip on my wrist tightened, and with a sudden, forceful tug, he pulled me forward, his other arm snaking around my waist. Our faces were so close I could feel the wild energy radiating from him, the madness and the certainty.
In a flash of silver, he drew a dagger, pressing its cold edge against the air between us. His eyes sparkled with a manic glee as he hissed, "Now, fuck up already. Did you really think I was going to sit back and watch my wife get handed off to some freak I don't even know exists, while I'm still out here breathing the same poisoned air as her? Sorry to break it to you all, but the wedding's off."
A gasp rippled through the crowd. Someone shouted, "Nantekotta?"(Translation: WHAT THE HELL?)
An elder's voice, trembling with outrage and fear, bellowed, "Tsukamaero!!!"(Translation: CATCH THEM!!!)
Cillian's lips curled into a feral smile. "This'll be fun," he murmured, almost to himself.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the world erupted into chaos.
He moved with inhuman speed, a blur of motion and steel. The air was rent by the sound of flesh meeting blade, of screams cut short, of bodies collapsing to the earth. Blood sprayed in crimson arcs, staining the sacred ground, splattering the torii gate, running in rivulets down the stones. The crowd, so fierce and righteous only moments before, fell like wheat before the scythe.
Within seconds, the cliffside was silent save for the soft, sickening drip of blood. Every man and woman who had come to witness the sacrifice-every mask, every voice-lay broken and lifeless in pools of their own making.
I stood trembling, the world spinning, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. Cillian turned to me, his face and hands painted in red, his eyes shining with a terrible, victorious light.
Because the man I was bound to was not the Silver Blade of legend.
He was something far darker, far more dreadful.
He was the Blood Prince.
Night had settled over the world like a velvet shroud, leaving only the moon to bear witness to what had transpired. The cliffside was eerily silent, save for the distant rush of the river far below and the faint whisper of wind threading through the grass. All around us, the aftermath of carnage lay-bodies sprawled in grotesque repose, their masks askew, but not a single drop of blood marred Cillian's skin or clothing. He stood behind the torii gate, its vermilion pillars now spectral in the moonlight, a guardian to a realm that felt neither sacred nor profane, but utterly forsaken.
Cillian broke the silence, his voice ringing with a cold, almost amused clarity. "Your fervent, misguided sense of entitlement is astonishing. But I swear-" He paused, the dagger glinting in his hand as he took a deliberate step toward me, "I'm under no obligation to make sense to you."
His words hung in the air, sharp as the blade he carried. I turned away from him, my gaze icy, and looked over my shoulder. The torii behind me seemed to glow, every edge and curve etched in silver by the moon. It stood as a silent judge, a relic of tradition and faith now tainted by the violence that had unfolded beneath its arch.
Cillian's footsteps were soft but sure as he came to stand beside me, his presence radiating a dangerous, restless energy. He gazed out into the abyss, the river below a mere ribbon of reflected starlight. "Power belongs to those who take it," he murmured, his tone almost philosophical. "The idea of help from above is a sniper on the roof."
For a moment, we stood together at the edge of the world, the wind tugging at our hair and clothing, the air thick with the scent of blood and night-blooming flowers. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat echoing with a thousand memories and regrets. I could feel the weight of everything that had brought me here-the betrayals, the pain, the endless cycle of hope and disappointment.
Without a word, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. His skin was cool beneath my touch, the pulse beneath it steady and untroubled. I took a step forward, pulling him gently but insistently with me. The ground beneath our feet was uneven, pebbles shifting under the soles of my sandals as we approached the very brink of the cliff. The drop was dizzying, the river below a dark, swirling mystery.
I stopped, just centimeters from the edge, and pointed down. My voice, when it came, was low but steady-a thread of resolve woven through the tremor of fear. "Here."
Cillian, sensing something in my tone, leaned forward, peering into the darkness below. The moon cast his face in stark relief, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the wild glint in his eyes. He turned, perhaps to say something, perhaps to challenge me one last time.
In that suspended moment, time seemed to slow. The world narrowed to the space between us-the tension, the history, the unspoken words. My breath caught in my throat, and then, with a surge of clarity, I moved.
Push.
My hands pressed against his back, the force of my action fueled by every wound and humiliation I had endured. For a split second, his eyes widened in disbelief, and then gravity claimed him. He toppled over the edge, his body vanishing into the darkness, swallowed by the night and the river's distant roar.
I stood smiling at the cliff's edge, clearly happy.
DID YOU JUST SEE THAT?! I JUST YEETED THE BLOOD PRINCE OFF A CLIFF! ME! The girl whose parents said I couldn't even throw away trash properly! "You'll never amount to anything, sweetheart!" WELL GUESS WHAT, MOM? I JUST AMOUNTED TO PUSHING ROYALTY OFF A MOUNTAIN!
dramatically dusts hands
Of course he's not dead. You can't kill the Blood Prince with something as pedestrian as gravity. That would be like trying to kill a vampire with a strongly worded letter. But you know what? THE SPLASH WAS SATISFYING.
THREE. YEARS. Three years of me thinking "maybe he's dead" or "maybe he's captured" or "maybe he's just really, REALLY bad at sending postcards." And he shows up at my SACRIFICE CEREMONY with that stupid hot face and cryptic one-liners? "Power belongs to those who take it"? WHO TALKS LIKE THAT?! Did you rehearse that line in the mirror while I was SUFFERING FOR THREE YEARS?
imitates Cillian in a mocking voice "I'm under no obligation to make sense to you." WELL I'M UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO KEEP YOU ON THIS CLIFF, BUDDY!
My therapist: "How's your marriage going?" Me: "Great! My husband disappeared for three years, showed up to murder an entire village, and then I pushed him off a cliff! So... the usual relationship stuff!"
You know what the funny part is? This isn't even the worst date night we've had!
Look at me, SMILING like a lunatic on this corpse-covered cliff! My parents always said I had an inappropriate sense of humor. "Why can't you be normal?" they'd ask. WELL, THIS IS WHAT NOT NORMAL LOOKS LIKE, DAD! I'M LAUGHING ON A MURDER CLIFF!
I know he'll climb back up. The Blood Prince probably has, like, retractable claws or can turn into a swarm of bats or something equally dramatic. But for the next ten minutes while he's swimming and climbing and being INCONVENIENCED, I get to enjoy the one time in my life I've had the last word!
strikes thinking pose
Wait, is this what empowerment feels like? Or is it just the adrenaline and mild psychosis? Either way, I LIKE IT!
looks at bloodstained hands
Great. Now I've got blood on my hands that isn't even from the person I pushed off a cliff. That's just sloppy. My mother would be so disappointed in my murder scene cleanliness.
cups hands around mouth, yelling down cliff
"HEY CILLIAN! WHILE YOU'RE DOWN THERE, THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! AND MAYBE COME UP WITH A BETTER CATCHPHRASE THAN 'I'M UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO MAKE SENSE TO YOU'! THAT'S JUST LAZY WRITING!"
to self
This is definitely going in our anniversary scrapbook. Year Three: "That time I pushed you off a cliff." The traditional gift is leather, but I think trauma works too!
starts casually examining nails
I should probably run before he climbs back up, but honestly? I kind of want to see his face when he realizes his dramatic exit got one-upped by his supposedly helpless wife.
Maybe I'm the Blood Princess after all. Emphasis on the "blood" part.
dramatic hair flip
Three years of abandonment therapy really gives a girl PERSPECTIVE.
OKAY. WHY IN THE HUMAN FUCKING HELL AREN'T WE OUT OF OMEEN YET?!
I pushed him off the cliff precisely because I realized you need to be in pain to get out of this place! It's been a whole 5 minutes and by now he should've hit bottom down there and we should've been transported out already. BUT WE'RE NOTTTTTtttt!
Wait... oh no. OH NO. Did he get hurt and get teleported back to the human world ALONE?! Did that bastard just LEAVE ME HERE AGAIN?! Three years wasn't enough, now he's abandoning me in OMEEN of all places?!
What if he got injured from the fall, zapped back to reality, and is now sitting in some hospital bed sipping jello while I'm stuck here with 50 dead cultists and their creepy masks? THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO WORK!
frantically paces
What am I doing? I just pushed my husband down a million feet cliff, what if he actually dies? Or worse - what if he DOESN'T die but gets sent back without me? WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? We're not even getting outta this fucking place to begin with, do I really need to be pinned to the ground and be pressed on the throat to be sent waking up in the human world now?? UGHHH.
Gotta find that psycho of a husband of mine to do that. Just fantastic. I push him off a cliff to escape this nightmare, and now I have to go DOWN the cliff to find him so he can choke me awake or bring him BACK if he's already gone!
peers over cliff edge
How am I even supposed to get down there? It's not like I'm equipped with mountain climbing gear under these sacrificial robes! "Oh sorry, just a sec while I pull out my handy emergency rappelling equipment from my ceremonial sash!"
And what if he IS dead? Or what if he's already back in the real world, telling everyone what a psycho I am? "My wife pushed me off a cliff, can you believe it? Women, am I right?"
tears at hair
I thought I was being SO SMART! But instead of escaping together, I probably just sent him back alone and stranded myself here forever! This is why you don't make impulsive decisions around interdimensional travel! They don't cover "how to properly push your murderous husband off a cliff to ensure joint teleportation" in any of the self-help books!
looks down cliff again
UGHHHHH. I guess I'm climbing down a million-foot cliff in ceremonial robes. Just another Tuesday in the life of the Blood Prince's wife. Mom and Dad never prepared me for THIS in their "how to be a disappointment" training.
If I survive this and get back to the human world, I'm writing a strongly worded letter to whoever designed Omeen's exit system. "Dear Interdimensional Architect: YOUR ESCAPE MECHANICS SUCK."
UGHHHHH. I guess I'm climbing down a million-foot cliff in ceremonial robes. Just another Tuesday in the life of the Blood Prince's wife.
Wait. The dragon flames. OF COURSE!
takes deep breath
I've never tried using them for this, but what other choice do I have? Stay here with the corpse collection? Hard pass.
I step to the very edge of the cliff, the wind whipping my robes around me. The river below is a distant silver ribbon, barely visible in the moonlight. For a moment, I hesitate—what if this doesn't work? What if I just become a ceremonial pancake at the bottom of the cliff?
But staying here is certain death. Or worse, an eternity in Omeen.
"Come on," I whisper to myself, feeling for that familiar heat in my core, the power I've kept hidden for so long. "Just once, work when I actually NEED you to work."
I close my eyes, exhale slowly, and step off the cliff.
For a heartbeat, there's just the terrifying sensation of falling—my stomach lurches, my robes snap violently in the wind. Then it happens. The heat surges through me, exploding outward from my chest to my fingertips. My eyes fly open to see swirls of reddish-orange flames spiraling around me, not burning but CARRYING me, slowing my descent.
The flames twist and dance, forming a cocoon of fiery wind that howls with a voice almost like my own. I'm not falling anymore—I'm FLYING. No, teleporting in fragments, appearing and disappearing in bursts of dragon fire, each materialization bringing me closer to the ground.
In seconds, I'm standing on the riverbank, my robes settling around me, the flames dissipating into the night air. My heart is pounding, but I'm alive. I'm DOWN.
The river rushes past, dark and swift. I scan the water's edge, looking for any sign of the Blood Prince. Nothing but smooth stones and the occasional piece of driftwood.
Did he wash downstream? Did he—
"BOOOO!"
I scream, nearly jumping out of my skin as I spin around.
There he is—Cillian—completely drenched, water dripping from his hair and clothes, a maddening smile playing on his lips. He looks like a half-drowned cat, but somehow still infuriatingly handsome.
"YOU—" I start, furious and relieved all at once.
To be Continued...